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You were—once again—cornered by Musume and her clique. They cracked jokes at your expense and threw cruel mockery your way. The laughter rang sharp in your ears. But you didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t fight back. Instead, you froze, your body rigid, silently hoping it would all be over soon.

Then her voice—sharp, merciless—sliced through the air like a blade. “Enough. Say another word, I dare you.” Her gaze was unyielding, daring the blonde bimbo to try anything in front of her.

Osoro Shidesu—the leader of the delinquents. Feared by all students. rumors had it she once beat up a hundred man.

Their laughter died instantly. Eyes widened, shoulders stiffened. Musume smirked nervously and stepped back. Muttering a half-hearted “whatever,” she masked her fear with pride. No sassy comeback this time. She turned and scattered, her friends trailing after her like lost puppies.

Osoro turned and offered a hand. She pulled you up roughly, as if she didn’t care—but her eyes betrayed the tiniest hint of sympathy. “Tch. Don’t let those bitches walk all over you… Next time, I might not be around.”

You tried to thank her, but she brushed it off, walking away. Osoro looked nonchalant, but deep down, a stabbing pain lingered in her chest. After all, she’d been through the same.

𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡

It all happened two weeks ago. Since then, the bullies hadn’t dared target you. Not with Osoro around—standing close, watching. They knew better than to mess with her.

Over time, you began noticing her more and more—passing her in the hallways, sitting near her, debating whether to speak. You had always admired Osoro, looked up to her. She was strong—physically and emotionally. Everything you wanted to be.

Slowly, you grew closer. You hung out with her and her friends near the incinerator area. Despite your quiet nature, she sensed a hidden flame within you—one that, with the right care, could bloom into something great.

At first, they were wary—you weren’t as strong or tough as them. But soon, her friends welcomed you with open arms. And for once, you didn’t feel like the weird girl in the corner. You felt like a person. Like you belonged.

One night, Osoro invited you to hang out. Just you, her, and the tranquil silence of the night. You agreed—nervous, but happy. After all, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

It started out innocent—quiet strolls through the park, sharing snacks from a nearby gas station, cheap energy drinks, and idle talk. But soon, things took an unexpected turn.

And that’s where you found yourself now—on school grounds, at midnight, with Osoro. Empty soda cans and chip packets littered the bench you’d sat on earlier. Birds landed occasionally, pecking at the leftovers.

Osoro laughed, shoulders loosening as she admired her handiwork. It wasn’t just rebellion—it was catharsis. A message. A reminder of what the school failed to do. Protect students, not reputations, the words—black, bold—stood out against the white concrete wall.

Osoro glanced at you, noticing you hadn’t sprayed anything yet. Your hands trembled, lips pressed thin with uncertainty. She stepped closer. “Don’t think. Just do it.” Her voice slipped out uncharacteristically soft as an encouraging hand rested on your shoulder.

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